copper clocks belching, miniature cities filled with white smoke, tattoes painted every where, and a slum lord waiting to sell his dope.big shiny cars yelling and sreaming as a child hides in this heat, a man pulls out a gun and points it at me and you, then a cop pulls his gun out, and just like that, , , , , , , , , , , , this moment ends only to begine the next day...

david gerardino

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/copper-clocks-1/